Smile for the cameras
by LadyRavenwing
Summary: He had hired and fired and rehired her and she had somehow become the driving force behind the campain. But did he really need one more person pushing him? A series of one shots, starting around "The trail", season 1. Fitz p.o.v. on how his relationship with Olivia started. Currently complete / might be continued.
1. Chapter 1 - Setting the stage

**Scene 1 – Setting the stage**

_Author´s note: __Not sure yet whether or not this is going to be a one shot, so far this is more an attempt to delve into some minds, flesh out some thoughts and get the tact to which the characters tick. However, this might develop into more of a steady storyline, mostly Fitz´ point of view on how his relationship with Olivia started out, based on a series of ´missing scenes´ and scene references. _

_Disclaimer__: Just borrowing these guys for some good fun. I´m gonna put them back to where I found them unharmed. Mostly._

„I do not buy it. I do not buy it even one minute."

"Well and there I was, thinking that I had quite some impressive acting skills."

Her response to his words, slightly drawled and accompanied with a lazy smile, maybe just to put her on edge a little, was a stern glance and he could tell the only reason Olivia Pope wasn´t rolling her eyes was that she might see that as something immature. For a moment she just gave him that look. That _are-you-kidding-me-look_ that nobody else dared to give him any more. Except his father who had other ways of putting him in line and telling him about the role he had to play. When exactly had people stopped daring to cross him? Did it come with the title? Candidate? Or earlier? Senator? Was it enough for people to be able to imagine you sitting behind the Resolute Desk that made them stop giving you the cheeks, dreading the consequences, hushing out of intimidation or some inbred kind of respect that came with a title? He doubted it was the latter and he hated that kind of thing. It made him feel isolated. But she was giving him none of that bull crap.

Which was why he was so often trying to bring it out some more in her. That spirit. With a little defiance in his voice. With the ghost of a smile, giving her an impression that he was taking things maybe just a tad too lightly. His attempt at loosening her up whereas he knew that she wouldn´t. She was a professional through and through.

"Sir," that one word sounded ernest, focused. Entirely professional. He didn´t like her calling him that. Sir. So distanced. Putting herself at the same distance towards himself as almost everyone around him did, including his wife even though she called him different. _Sir_. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly, lifted his shoulders in the hint of a shrug. "It seems staged." she continued. "It´s a puppet show put on for the viewers, it doesn´t seem real, it seems like you´re some awkward kind of prom couple matched by others because you look good together."

Another of those things that nobody else would dare tell him. Not even Cyrus. But then again it was something Cyrus would never say. He had liked Mellie immediately. ´The wife´s perfect.´ In a way she was. Too perfect. Like a pretty picture in a frame.

He was wondering what to say but not too much, because he had learned by now that sometimes it was easier to let her vent. It made her glow, made her eyes vivid. He liked that about her, the way she was so passionate, the way she got so into what she was doing. His smile might have broadened a little, because he could tell from the spark in her eyes that she was not pleased. That she might be thinking he was making fun of her. His smile sobered and her eyes softened a bit. Not entirely.

"The interview went well, the pictures look good, good enough for a mostly conservative high gloss magazine audience but when we go out there this afternoon you have to be more convincing."

"And how do you suggest I do this, Olivia?" He had gotten to his feet, walked towards the edge of a table clustered with paperwork and grabbed a water bottle, unscrewing it while looking at her. She had answer for that at the ready as well. "It is just important that it doesn´t look staged. It´s little things. Little touches, things like that, smiles, looks. Do not keep that distance between each other like you can´t even stand to be around each other. Take her hand, turn towards her and you're your body language. You´re not … friends who have become estranged, you´re a potential First Couple and people do like fairy tales so whether or not it´s the truth if you want to get the voters you have to get their hearts. If you want women to vote for you, at least pretend to be in love and make it look real." Her words were fast. He had noticed she used to speed up her words when she wanted to make a point. A little faster but very enunciated just like she wanted to make sure every word was understood.

"Who tells you I´m not?"

"Sir?"

"Who tells you I´m not in love?" He placed the water bottle aside and turned towards a small mirror, adjusting his left cufflink. Raised his eyes to meet hers in the mirror. She kept his glance for not even a second, then looked away. "Senator…" That word could mean many things. It might mean "I don´t want to talk about this." or simply. "Don´t." Right now though it might be that with a good deal of "Get a move on, we´re running late" thrown in. In any of those combinations she was not in a mood to be messed with. He gave her another glance and she still wasn´t meeting his gaze, she was checking her watch, then briefly glanced at him. He smiled back at her and the corners of her mouth briefly twitched upwards before she regained her control. Part of him, the part he knew he needed to keep stored away, wondered whether he could make her lose control if he wanted. If he really tried. He shook his head slightly, a move that would look slightly out of context to her, but he couldn´t help it. "…we´re running late." She ended the slightly awkward silence and he decided not to torment her. "All right." He grabbed his suit jacket that had been draped across the back of a chair. "Let´s do this." A few steps towards her with no intentions at all, even though his mind briefly played them out and she stepped aside, not to avoid contact (or maybe that´s just what it was?) but to let him pass, right now just the professional girl he had hired then fired then rehired and who had somehow, impressively and inescapably become the driving force behind his campaign. As he stepped past her he wondered how he managed to adore that about her and at the same time despise being pushed. Pushed again. _Do this, do that. Smile for the cameras. Hold hands with your wife. Smile again._

Did the path to the White House really have to be paved with little, staged moments like this? Was that what really mattered? Why not just be himself? What if he just did things his own way? Would he fail? Was he really that incapable to achieve things on his own? He pushed the thought aside. Failing was no word that was even supposed to be in his vocabulary, there had been someone that had seen to that even though he had kept the threat of failure as a constant, uncomfortable reminder at the edge of his mind. _Smile for the cameras. Wave. Be charming. Choose the right moment to smile, to wave, to pat the head of a child, to give a lady in the crowd a wink, to use a second hand to clasp the hand of someone you meet, the right moment for a pat on the back, a nod, the right kind of intonation._ How was she even different from all the others in his life he sometimes wondered.

He tossed her a glance and this time it was met with the hint of a smile. "You can do it." A small nod to accompany that as she walked past him. "It´s not you you have to fake. You´re good as you are. The rest you´ll easily be able to pull of, Sir." No, he answered his question to himself. _You can do it. You, Fitzgerald Grant. I believe in you_. She was so not like the others. Not at all.


	2. Chapter 2 - The things that matter

_**Disclaimer: Same as usual**_

_**Author´s note:**_ Thank you very much for all the views, the faves and the reviews. You´re really great and making me feel inspired.

Guest (1) (since you guys did not leave a name I hope you will be able to tell from what I write as a response who I am referring to): Consider myself encouraged. :) I agree, that´s part of why I am writing this, because I think it´s interesting to delve into the guy´s mind, see what he´s really made of which is much more than meets the eye I believe.

Heyder123: Thank you. :) And here you go.

Guest(2): Well, I guess that is a question of taste when it comes to fanfiction. To me fanfiction means working with the character constellations that are given to us and I think in this case they offer a lot more potential for conflict and development than an AU where Fitz is single. I like the idea of exploring this kind of constellation, the characters as they are intended for the show. Therefore, feel free to read, but you´ll have to deal with the Shonda take on this as a basis. There is a lot of AU out there, this fic won´t be one of them and I mean no disrespect to the other writers there, it´s just not how I approach fanfiction as a writer myself.

_**General note:**_ I like my fics to have some realism. In this chapter I therefore tried to give Fitz a little bit of political depth. Being a political nerd on American politics myself I find that to be an interesting aspect that is not explored much in the show, so I make do with the hints that we are given, mostly that he is portrayed as a moderate Republican that however favours a few centrist ideas (I consider this a bit of an interesting challenge as a writer since I am both non-American and if I were American I´d much rather be Democrat. However, politics aside here, I like giving my stuff some realistic touch so I hope I am getting the details right here.)

**Scene 2 – The things that matter**

Fitzgerald Grant was getting tired. Not so much because of the fact that he had been standing behind that podium for the last three hours, not because his mouth had started to go dry from talking and most certainly not from the sight of today´s debate prep instructor who was standing just a few paces away, looking up at him, a clipboard in one hand, pacing now and then, especially when she was not satisfied with something he said or how he´d said it. Pacing to and fro he had noticed. She did that when thinking about something. To and fro. No. That was certainly not what he was growing tired of. It was the topic. Again and again. It was frustrating him. As if this was what defined him. As if he hadn´t spent enough time working on what seemed beyond repair instead of focusing on real issues. He sighed. A bit too loud for her taste because of course she caught it and turned.

"Senator they will ask you about this and you have to be convincing. I don´t have to tell you how important the New Hampshire primaries are. People here see it as their privilege to be the first ones at the ballots. This is where decisions are made. And South Carolina, today, isn´t to be undersestimated, either."

He raised a hand and rubbed the spot between his eyes, trying to ignore the rising frustration. "Which is exactly why facts matter. I´ll have to be out there and react to Langston and her bogus ideas on border control, I´ll have to be on my feet to be able respond to big oil. I want to be out there and talk about education."

The hint of a smile on her face. _You smile too rarely, Olivia Pope_, he thought. _Too rarely indeed._ "I know." She said and her voice was a little softer. "I know, Senator, but unfortunately the people out there respond a lot more to emotional stimuli. What they will keep in mind foremost is not pellgrants and politics, it´s whether or not questions of your marriage were answered with an awkward silence that will stay in mind and talked about at dinner tables.

He threw up his arms in a demonstration of bewilderment. Was this what he had signed up for? A charade? Wasn´t it supposed to be about ideas? "I am not planning to turn the debate into that kind of show." he told her. "I plan on addressing serious issues …"

"…to an audience that is far more used to light entertainment." she interrupted him. Hardly anyone did that. Interrupt him. It was refreshing as much as it was frustrating right now. "A happy marriage means family values and that´s what we need to aim for. We can´t win the primaries with a proper stand on that. Especially seeing that you´re viewed as a moderate by the party base."

He gave a little scoff, folded up his papers and stepped away from the podium, deciding he had had his daily fill of harassment. Howeber, it meant being around her, being alone with her sometimes even when he was lucky, not that this kind of thing took him anywhere. Of course not. He had married. Long ago. Very long ago. Dead end. "You make that sound like a bad word." he told her, stepping towards her, not closely, not as closely as he wanted, but moving in on her a bit, maybe three steps away from her, maybe four. She crossed her arms. "Well, depending on the audience, it is." She shook her head. "We can still push your agenda, Sir, right now it is more important to give you an image. You can´t win the nomination without an image."

"My ideas are part of that image," he told her, almost defiantly. It was something so few people seemed to understand. Ideas and what they meant. Visions. That was what mattered, why people went into politics. It wasn´t just all about power, but he felt increasingly surrounded by people that made it mostly about that. Power, the path to the White House, but he was determined not to lose track of why he had even started on that path from the start. No, not his father. Not only. But his ideas. Those very ideas Olivia Pope had just called moderate. Which was good if they asked him. It set him apart from people like Langston and her Tea Party buddies. "And besides," he added, feeling and looking rather smug. "centrist ideas will look good in the swing states come next November."

"Far too far ahead," she stated. "You´re thinking about next November, I am more concerned of keeping you from tanking before you even make it through the primaries. Which brings us back to your image." He groaned. She ignored it. "Just what I told you," she said. "the last few days were not bad, I´m still not buying it but…"

"Not bad…" he muttered. "A little bit of ice cream in the morning, being yelled at after noon." That's what his marriage looked like these days. Sometimes he wished for the luxury to be able to whine about it. To just let it all out. But with who even? Cy? His best friend was not exactly the kind of person that would be too understanding of that. Supportive as he was, what counted for Cy was not so much what was behind the façade, but a lot more what was before it. It had been him hiring Olivia after all, very him. Was she any different there? He had an idea she was. He had an idea that she knew exactly what was going on inside him sometimes. It was something in her eyes he couldn´t quite pinpoint and, looking at her he tried to find that something. And for a split second, he caught it. Then she tossed a glance at her watch. "Three hours, Senator." she reminded him. "Don´t forget to smile." And she gave him a smile of her own before she left, a smile that looked a bit like she couldn´t help it. One of those rare ones that for this reason were all the more fun to watch, all the more precious. It made him want to say something in return, made him wonder if it was flirty, made him wonder whether he could make her laugh, an even rarer thing, with a little witty remark maybe. He could be quite funny, he was pretty certain of that. He was a classy, witty guy, wasn´t he? But before he could put it to the test she had left the room.

The floodlights were directed at the stage, causing him to sweat in his tailored suit was something he definitely still had to get used to. He didn´t mind crowds. Truth be told, he usually loved crowds. Loved the reactions people displayed towards him, the smiles, the gratitude, the respect, the handing him babies… yes, he did like that. But this was not exactly a crowd. It was a tamed group of spectators that didn´t even have the liberty to applaud during the debate usually. This here, standing behind the podium on the stage, cameras rolling felt more distance, more…staged in the true sense of the meaning. Gave him less possibility to interact and be authentic. He had not been face with that kind of an audience before and he had spent some time wondering where to look until he remembered something he had been told a long time ago by a teacher he had admired. _When you´re nervous find a face in the crowd, someone you trust._ So he had been glancing in her direction now and then, something he was sure he could easily do without causing anyone to wonder since Olivia was standing next to Cy, hands clasped in front of her, looking at him intently, tense, and he knew which question she was afraid of being asked. And then there it was. Just when he wanted to reply to Sally Langston´s ridiculous idea of drones at the US-Mexican border, his ideas neatly sorted in his mind the host asked about his marriage, causing him, for a moment, to stumble, only to then escape into an evasive, sort of long winded explanation about photos and how they could not capture a marriage. How they could not capture chemistry. Bullcrap. Speaking it out loud he knew he did not even believe that himself. He was not talking, he knew, he was rambling. He could tell from the host´s slightly bewildered scowl that he was losing this round, but then he had it. _Focus on one person. A person in the crowd._ And he did. And the next line he delivered was not staged, but honest. "The most honest thing I can tell you about myself right now is that…I´m a man in love. With an incredible woman." Not acted. Just the truth. The host, professionally doing her job to this point could not hide a smile and he knew he had tackled it. Not as a show act, not as make pretend…. He was a man in love. He realized that right now. In love with an incredible woman. And as the applause washed over him, the audience breaking protocol at the display at what they believed to be a public display of a husband to his wife, he let his gaze travel, knowing she was standing there, next to Cy, just a bit in the shadows. _In love…_ It felt better than the applause. It felt better than anything he had felt in a long time.

The host announced a commercial break and the glare of the lights lessened a bit, easing the heat. But that was merely on the surface of things.


	3. Chapter 3 - Count to 20

**Chapter 3**

**Count to 20**

He felt good after the debate – really good and it took him a while to realize why that was so. It was because he had been honest all the way through, it was because he had been himself and not faking anything. Yes, he, Fitzgerald Grant had not only had a podium to voice his ideas, he had also said something that was even more the truth it seemed, something he did not even admit to himself yet fully. That he was a man in love. And when he stepped down from the stage and out and away from the glaring heat of the spotlights the bitterness on Sally Langston´s face , the way she set her lips in that thin, tightly set line told him he had won this thing. Had owned this debate. He had been charming and fuck yes, he had been the one that people would remember when they talked this stuff through at dinner tables throughout America tonight. Because he had been cutting edge, he had been honest, he had been charming. And he knew he owed it all to her. Yet … how to explain?

"That was a brilliant move there, Senator," Cy was next to him as soon as he strolled away from the podium, giving his friend a pat on the shoulder, a victorious grin on his face. "I can´t say I´ll ever grow tired on the look on the face of that crazy woman Langston." That was not what Cy had said before. Before he had been a lot more cautious. It felt good, Fitz thought to himself, to see that his best friend was starting to really believe in him for a change. He smiled.

"Neither will I." he said. "That was some good work there, Miss Pope."

She was standing a few feet to the side, but was watching him, a look that was a mix of pride and thoughtfulness on her face which spread into a smile she could not fight back as he addressed her. "Well, since you followed my instructions I bet that will teach me to listen to what I have to say a little more often, Senator." she remarked.

He heaved a small sigh. "Fitz." He said.

"Sir?"

"I have told you before, Olivia, call me Fitz."

She ignored that. "I´m sure people will want to celebrate a bit, we should join the others. Cy?"

He could see her turn from the corner of his eye, noticing Cyrus had been stopped by one of the reporters that were travelling with them. What was his name again? James? He couldn´t recall the man´s last name. "I´ll be right with you, my friends." Cy said, raising a hand.

Which left the two of them. Surrounded by people until they left the hall. Accompanied by a driver on their way back to the hotel, audience reduced to one as if that was to prepare them for what he knew was coming, looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time: the suite and rooms the campaign had rented were on the top floor. President´s suite, even though he did not like the brazenness that went with that exactly. Top floor. 20 floors between the entrance hall and that. And with a hotel that was mostly occupied by his staff most of whom were probably already clinking glasses up there… that meant an empty elevator. An elevator and 20 floor.

So the audience had reduced. From the smiling faces in the hall where the debate had been held to the driver, to none. Just them. Him and her in that elevator.

There were so many things he wanted to say he thought as the lift started to ascend. Too fast for his liking, yet he was aware of the sudden awkwardness settling between them. So many things… yet so little of them that actually should be uttered. It was as if the lights back there on the stage had given him clear sight, an illumination of the mind, clearly for the first time. He felt attracted to her, so much that had had not dared admit it at first but it was a feeling that he knew now had almost been instant. Just from the first day when she had interrupted him and bashed the way he presented his marriage. Fitz was none to really believe in fate or he hadn´t been that kind of person until now. He had been taught to be rational, focused and calculated, a mindset he had tried to rebel against a little too late, but still, it was something he could not easily escape. But there she was. Olivia. Young, smart and so incredibly beautiful that he had realized that very evening on that very stage when he had said what he had said that these words about being in love were directed at her. Olivia Pope. And that they probably had been for quite a while.

He knew he should make some small talk to ease the growing tension. When the illuminated letters indicating floors had just moved past 5 he noticed he had inched a little closer. Not much, not even half a step, but it was as if he was drawn to her like a magnet. She was the only one with him, nobody to watch and he knew he should probably stand at the very other end of this elevator, not even thinking about this. And yet all Fitz could think of was her. How close she was. 7….8…How he could smell just the faintest air of her perfume. And when he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes like a shy school boy about to pass a note to a girl in study hall… his heart skipped a beat when he noticed her glancing back.

Did he dare? He edged a closer before he could consider the danger this very question implied. The light had moved again. Kept moving. 9..10… reached 12 until he dared glance at her again. She was still watching him. Kept watching him, just from the corner of her eyes as the elevator ascended to 14, then 15. And again he moved. Not even an inch, not even a fraction, believed that his fingers could almost touch hers, that he could almost feel her skin. How was it possible that he felt closer to this woman he did not even touch than he had felt to Mellie in what felt like years?

So strange, so awkward, yet he felt that the elevator was moving with rapid speed. He could tell she was feeling the same kind of dread and fascination that he felt, wondering probably who would make the first move or whether any of them even would.

15 … 16…

He should break the silence, but he could sense she was about to, so he didn´t and just stood there. Almost touching. Almost feeling. Almost. Skin against skin. Hand against hand. Almost.

17…

He could sense her tense up when he moved yet a bit closer, bringing the distance between them to an almost painful minimum, but she did not move away. What could happen anyways, he wondered. He just wanted to touch her. Not more. Just that slight brushing of his hand against hers but he was half afraid of what this might trigger, because he felt there was much more under the surface and maybe one should not tempt the storm…

18…

What could even happen. If he just…

19…

Nothing would. Just a touch. There was an understanding between them, he knew. A chemistry so powerful that it was stupid to even deny it. Touch or no touch, it was there. And it was so strong that it made him completely forget that he had already counted to 19.

I´m a man in love.. And as a man in love, Fitz closed the distance. Skin against skin for the briefest of seconds.

20. The doors slid open and almost made him jump. Just like that school boy in study hall.


End file.
